


525600 Minutes

by saltybisexualgrantaire (greenhighlighter)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: All pairings are FUTURE, Friends to Lovers, Multi, Pining, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, i guess??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-08-28 15:35:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8451928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenhighlighter/pseuds/saltybisexualgrantaire
Summary: A sitcom-inspired mildly-domestic months-of-the-year-themed series in which Les Amis are friends/roommates and then surprise! there's lots of romance ft pining.Basically a really extended friends to lovers for eVERY ship I have inspired by the fact that I want them all to be happy





	1. November: Marius Moves In

**Author's Note:**

> Cosette rolled her eyes. "Oh, c'mon, you could make a pancake?"  
> "I could." Feuilly smiled innocently at her. "But I'm not gonna."  
> She flipped him off playfully. "Shitty host, you are."  
> "Did I invite you, though?" He asked rhetorically, turning back to pour the coffee. "Coffee?"  
> "Did someone say coffee?" A Latina girl, dark hair in a messy bun, emerged from the tangle of people on the beanbags. "Oh, morning all. Yes please."

Surrounded by Halloween-themed candy, a tall dark-haired young man lay, muscles slack, one knee up, against the front door of an apartment, skin still greyed by the remains of face paint. A smaller boy with dark, russet-tinted hair and tan skin, was draped over his leg, breathing shallowly, fake blood dried on his temple. Further into the apartment, another adolescent was sleeping on the worn couch, head pillowed on their arms, eyelashes swept over paint-streaked cheeks. On the other end of the couch, a girl was curled up, blonde hair a curtain over her eyes. A young man lay flopped sideways over the armchair, at an angle to the couch, dark hair contrasting his pale skin. Sprawled over a pile of beanbags lay five more people tangled together, parts of Halloween costumes scattered around them; one messy-haired boy latched onto a tall dark-skinned boy. On a round table in the kitchen of the open-plan apartment, a young boy was curled up, sleeping soundly; and an older girl was sitting on a chair, leaning on the table, head cushioned on her arms, and dark hair tumbling over her face. Lying on his front, grey t-shirt hitched up, a dark-haired boy was stretched out on the kitchen tiles. And beneath the window, a blond boy was half-covered by a duvet.  
   
An orange glow was slowly permeating the room, the cold November sun scattered by the half-closed blinds. Gradually, the room began to stir.

The russet-haired boy near the door stretched, his eyelids flickering, and carefully got to his feet. The strawberry blond on the couch moved, looking up, the sun painting a halo of light around their head.

"Ugh," the boy murmured, walking over to the couch. "My neck is killing me."

The blond grinned. "You were the one who chose to sleep on top of Bahorel."

"Well, we can't all be angels of health and good decisions, Jehan," the boy grinned back and wandered the few feet into the kitchen.

The young boy on the table stirred, and the dark-haired girl on the chair next to him automatically shot out her arm to stop him from falling, without lifting her head.

The first boy clapped him on the shoulder on the way to the coffee maker. "Morning, Gavroche."

Gavroche slid off the table, landing with practiced agility. "Morning, Feu."

The girl looked up. "Oh, morning, Feuilly," she said around a yawn. "Why'm I in your flat?"

"Halloween," Gavroche answered in an explanatory fashion.

The girl made a face. "Ah."

"Who's up?" Gavroche asked the room at large, digging professionally through the cupboards.

Feuilly removed a chocolate bar from his hands, ignoring Gavroche's indignant expression. "Jehan's awake. Or was." He raised his voice. "Jehan?"

"Hello, yeah."

At the sound of Jehan's voice, the blonde girl on the other end of the couch stirred. "Ugh. What time is it?"

"No idea," Feuilly called back. He glanced at the microwave. "Nearly half seven."

She sat up slowly, batting blonde hair over her shoulder, blinking big eyes like a kitten. "What's for breakfast?"

Feuilly gave her a disbelieving, if amused, look. "Cosette, have I ever made breakfast in my life?"

Cosette rolled her eyes. "Oh, c'mon, you could make a pancake?"

"I could." Feuilly smiled innocently at her. "But I'm not gonna."

She flipped him off playfully. "Shitty host, you are."

"Did I invite you, though?" He asked rhetorically, turning back to pour the coffee. "Coffee?"

"Did someone say coffee?" A Latina girl, dark hair in a messy bun, emerged from the tangle of people on the beanbags. "Oh, morning all. Yes please."

Feuilly laughed. "I was offering that to Cosette." He stepped over the sleeping form of another boy and made his way between the armchair and sofa with a coffee in each hand, and handed one to each girl.

Jehan made a face. "Um, hello, am I invisible all of a sudden?"

"Only got two hands, mate," Feuilly responded brightly, poking the dark-haired boy on the armchair as he passed back into the kitchen.

The boy blinked. "Wha-"

"Morning," Cosette and Jehan greeted him in unison.

"Morning," he said, sleep slurring his voice. "What's happening?"

"Coffee, Marius," Feuilly answered, handing him a mug.

Marius took it gratefully. "Thanks."

"Hey, Éponine, can I have some of your coffee?" Gavroche asked the dark-haired girl, drinking from her mug.

She rolled her eyes. "You're supposed to wait for an answer, little brother."

He grinned unrepentantly. "Who can I wake up?"

Feuilly looked thoughtful. "Bahorel and Ferre probably just won't, and Enjolras _might_ kill you, but you're welcome to try any of them."

Gavroche executed a messy, but agile, spin, and dropped to the kitchen floor next to the dark-haired boy. "Morning, Grantaire!"

"No," the boy answered briefly, unmoving.

Gavroche poked him interrogatively. "There's coffee."

"I hate you all," he answered flatly, but got up. "Fuck, my neck hurts," he continued, his voice gravelly with sleep. "Morning, Gav."

The blond boy by the window stirred. Gavroche skipped over and pulled up the blinds, sunlight pouring in. The boy blinked, screwing up his eyes against the glare. "What time is it?"

"Like half seven," Gavroche answered. "Coffee's in the coffee maker."

"Wow, alert the press," Grantaire muttered, pulling a mug from a cupboard. "What day is it?"

Eponine rolled her eyes. "Tuesday."

Feuilly yawned. "Hey, Marius, you moving in today?"

Marius looked up. "Oh, uh, yeah, I guess, if that's alright?"

"Sure." Feuilly wandered over to the door and administered a kick to the leg of the dark-haired boy lying against the door. "Morning, sunshine." The boy didn't move. Feuilly rolled his eyes and gestured Gavroche over to the group lying on the beanbags. "You wanna attempt to wake the dead?"

"Do I ever?" Gavroche asked rhetorically, bounding over. He bent down to the dark-skinned boy at the bottom of the heap. "Moths. Um, science. Moths and science. Ferre! Moths. Science and moths. Science! Coffee and moths. Science and coffee and moths and science!"

Another boy on his left stirred. "What?"

"Bossuet!" Gavroche poked him. "Morning! Coffee's in the kitchen. Help me wake up Ferre?"

Bossuet blinked, running a hand over his face. "Morning, Gav. Uh, sure. Combeferre!"

A small boy with fluffy, dark hair rolled over. "Hey, Ferre, you're late for class."

"No I'm not," Combeferre answered without opening his eyes.

"But you're awake!" Gavroche sing-songed.

The curly-haired boy draped over Combeferre opened his eyes slowly. "What the fuck is going on?"

"Language, Courfeyrac, gosh!" Gavroche reprimanded him mock-innocently. "There are children present!"

"You swear more than the rest of us put together, kid," the boy answered cheerfully. "Is it morning?"

"Yes, that tends to be what we call it when the sun rises," the small, dark-haired boy answered dryly.

Courfeyrac swatted him half-heartedly. "Shush your noise, Joly."

Bossuet scrambled up, pulling Joly with him. "Coffee?"

"Yes please," Combeferre mumbled, still motionless.

"The corpse lives!" Feuilly deadpanned. He pushed a cup of coffee vaguely into the group. Combeferre took it, barely lifting his head.

Cosette swung her feet over the side of the couch onto the floor. "Sorry to go so soon, but I trust my apartment's shower more than yours."

Feuilly rolled his eyes with a laugh. "Go on then, darling. See if you can wake Bahorel up on your way out."

"Will do," Cosette called, dropping a kiss to Jehan's forehead as she passed. She opened the door an inch at a time, holding the dark-haired boy slouched against it up with her leg. "Bahorel, honey, morning."

Bahorel made a half-hearted noise and toppled slowly against the wall.

She shrugged with a laugh. "Well, he's alive. Bye, everyone!" She shut the door carefully behind her.

Joly yawned around a cup of coffee, dark hair flopping over his eyes. "We'd better be going as well, actually. I've got a-" he yawned again - "I've got a paper to finish, and Bossuet has a year's worth of homework to do."

Bossuet laughed. "Slander. C'mon then."

Grantaire wandered over, holding a second mug of coffee. "I'm stealing your cup, Feuilly, thanks." He left the apartment with Joly and Bossuet, who was yawning too now.

Feuilly made a face at the closed door. "No, that's perfectly fine, sure, just steal all my belongings, go ahead."

The tall, Latina girl pulled Gavroche into a headlock, ruffling his hair. "And Gav's going to actually wash, for once. Thank me later."

"Musichetta!" Gavroche protested.

Éponine pulled them both towards the door. "Gav, your face is literally green." She turned back to the room to blow everyone a sarcastic kiss as she left. "Don't miss us too much."

Combeferre stood up and put his empty cup onto a table. "Has anyone actually woken Enjolras up?"

Those remaining in the room - Combeferre, Feuilly, Courfeyrac, Jehan, and Marius - looked over at the blond boy, leaning against the wall beneath the window, and tapping on his phone.

Feuilly grinned. "Organising a riot, Enj?"

Enjolras looked up. "Well, not technically."

Courfeyrac hurried over. "Ooh, let's see?"

The two boys bent their heads together over their phones, dark and light curls interwoven.

Feuilly smiled, shaking his head, and wandered over to Bahorel. "Hey. Rel. Morning."

"You better have coffee," Bahorel responded, glancing up at him.

Feuilly grinned. "Well, seeing as you are not, in fact, unable to use your muscles, I don't see why you can't get it yourself."

Bahorel flipped him off, the corners of his lips quirking. "But you love me."

"Lies and absolute slander," Feuilly answered dryly, presenting him with a hot cup of coffee.  
 

"Oh, hey, Marius," Jehan called from the kitchen, "Are you moving in here today, then?"

"Yeah, um… Courfeyrac, Feuilly, what should I…" Marius trailed off, fidgeting slightly.

"Oh, right, sure!" Courfeyrac said brightly, putting his phone back into his pocket and standing up. "Sorry, yeah, do you have your bags?"

Marius made a face. "I don't have a huge amount of stuff, actually, I didn't really have time to get everything before I left. My aunt might send it on."

"Well, we'll get your room set up regardless," Feuilly said. "And if there's any other stuff you need, we can probably lend it to you."

"Everyone'll help," Courfeyrac continued. "Bahorel and Cosette live just across the hall, so they can't get out of it."

Marius looked guilty. "They don't have to help if they don't want to, I don't want to be an inconvenience."

Cosette appeared through the door, pulling damp hair into a ponytail, a white blouse tucked into slim blue jeans. "Not at all, we're happy to help. Marius, right?"

Marius swallowed. "Oh, uh, sorry, what?"

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes dramatically.

Cosette smiled sweetly. "You're Marius?"

"Marius - um, yeah, that's - that's me. And you're Cosette?"

She nodded. "It's a pleasure to meet you - well, again."

"L-likewise."

Courfeyrac buried his head in his hands, loose curls falling over his fingers.

Cosette kicked him. "Shush, you. So, Marius, you're in Bahorel's class?"

Marius nodded. "Yeah. Well, when he's there."

Bahorel coughed loudly. "Talking shit about me behind my back?"

Marius began to stutter out an apology. Feuilly gave Bahorel a look.

Bahorel clapped Marius on the shoulder. "I'm kidding, man, you're cool. Yeah, Cosette, he's a lifesaver. Seriously, this kid, the number of times he's translated Latin for me are ridiculous."

Marius smiled nervously. "It's no problem."

Bahorel grinned at him. "So. Let's get you moved in. Your stuff's in my place, right?"

"Yeah, that's right."

Bahorel nodded and whirled out of the apartment, Feuilly and Combeferre following, leaving Marius and Cosette looking at each other, and Courfeyrac pretending to look at his phone with a smug look on his face.

 **********

By the time Éponine, Musichetta, and Gavroche returned, Cosette had roped Bahorel into helping her to carry Marius' bags into his room, and had then lain down on the floor with the declaration that "I've done my helping, now it's your turn". Nobody else had even moved from the couch, with the exception of Combeferre and Marius, who had wandered around vaguely while Cosette and Bahorel were carrying the bags. Courfeyrac alleged that shouting "good job, guys!" at intervals was an adequate contribution to the group effort. Enjolras claimed that he was busy changing the world. Jehan had disappeared, and Feuilly wasn’t even attempting to justify himself, preferring to create origami designs with some of Combeferre's old homework sheets.

"Wow, guys, doing great!" Musichetta said dryly, giving them all a look. "Do you want Marius to have to sleep on the couch?" She turned to Marius. "Do you want to sleep on the couch?"

"Uh…" Marius' eyes widened. "Well, no, ideally; um, was that a rhetorical question?"

Musichetta and Éponine exchanged exasperated groans. Éponine marched through the open-plan living room and into Marius' new room, grabbing Courfeyrac and Feuilly as she passed, who both made indignant noises. 

Musichetta made her way along the back of the sofa, pushing everyone who was left sitting on it. "Let's get to work, slackers."

"I'm working on a-" Enjolras attempted, but was silenced by a joint glare from Musichetta and Éponine, who had emerged from Marius' room to shepherd the others inside it.

Musichetta flipped her phone around in her hand. "Ep, I'll text the others. Is the bed made?"

Éponine poked her head back inside the room. "Courfeyrac, get off the floor, you won't die if you have to work." She turned back to Musichetta. "Not in the slightest at all, as a matter of fact."

"It's a bed shape!" Courfeyrac protested from within the bedroom.

"It doesn't have a mattress," Éponine responded dryly.

Musichetta rolled her eyes fondly and joined the others in the bedroom. "Right. Bahorel, Feuilly, find a mattress and put in on the bed. Marius, unpack. Courfeyrac, tidy up. Fine-" at Courfeyrac's horrified expression - "Put rubbish in the bin and put everything else in a pile somewhere out of the way. Ferre - help him. Enjolras, find some pillows, blankets, sheets, whatever, and have a look for Jehan, too. Cosette, you're capable of helping set up a bedroom without your every action being directed, right?"

Cosette grinned. "I think I should be able to cope, yeah." She turned instinctively back to Marius. "Try not to mix up your mess with their mess, Marius. Courf, Ferre, make a space for Marius to organise his stuff in before he gets it into the drawers. Actually, are the drawers empty?"

Courfeyrac opened the top drawer and looked inside it. "Hey, Ferre, it's your freshman revision list!"

"Huh," Combeferre said, turning around to join him. "Didn't think I'd see that again."

Cosette put a waste-paper basket in front of the drawers. "Bin everything you don't need."

Courfeyrac held up a plastic party bag. "Free candy!"

Combeferre removed them from him. "Courf, these are from last year." He put them decisively into the basket.

"Did someone say candy?" Gavroche appeared in the doorway.

Éponine pulled him into the room. "No, but now you're here you can help Courf and Ferre tidy up."

Gavroche groaned dramatically, but knelt down next to them. "Whatever. Aaand we've got condoms."

Courfeyrac snatched them from him quickly. "You don't know what those are."

"Sure I don't." Gavroche rolled his eyes and turned back to the drawers.

Combeferre took the condoms from Courfeyrac and deposited them in the basket. "These are very out of date. When was the last time you were even in here?"

Courfeyrac shrugged. "No idea. Ooh, look, a charger!"

"I call dibs!" Feuilly appeared in the doorway, carrying one end of a large mattress, Bahorel's head visible to the side behind it.

Musichetta called instructions from the wardrobe, grimacing, as the two boys attempted to navigate the room. Combeferre jumped up to catch the side of the mattress as it began to overbalance, and Bahorel instantly dropped his end.

"Bahorel!" Feuilly objected, as he and Combeferre struggled to regain control of the toppling mattress. As Combeferre attempted to manipulate the unwieldy mattress, Courfeyrac's eyes followed the movement of his arms before abruptly turning back to the drawers, with a small shake of his head and a confused look on his face.

Gavroche raised an eyebrow, and continued going through the drawers. "Is this a firework?"

Courfeyrac looked over. "Yep, and it's not for you to be touching." He skidded it across the floor into the living room.

"What's the point of me helping if I'm not allowed to touch anything?" Gavroche protested, depositing a huge folder of papers onto the floor.

Enjolras arrived in the doorway, his arms overflowing with sheets. "I didn't know what you wanted, so I just brought everything."

Musichetta looked equal parts fond and exasperated. "Well, thanks, just-" Joly, Bossuet, and Grantaire appeared behind Enjolras. "Oh, thank fuck, Joly, you know how to put sheets on beds, right?"

"Um, I guess?" Joly responded slowly. He gestured to his cane. "I mean, I could do it if I got minions to help me?" He cracked a broad grin.

Musichetta smiled back with a fond roll of her eyes. "Grantaire, Enjolras, do what Joly tells you."

With a crash, Feuilly and Combeferre successfully tipped the mattress onto the bed.

Feuilly wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "Well, this has been great, I'm going to-"

"You're going to get a hoover," Cosette informed him. "There's one in my apartment. I'd say take Bahorel with you, but he doesn't know where any of the cleaning implements are kept."

Bahorel shrugged, grinning. Feuilly shook his head at him and disappeared back out of the apartment.

Combeferre dropped back to the floor next to Courfeyrac and Gavroche, and began leafing through the folder. "I don't need any of this, I don't think, but check with Feuilly, some of it might be his." He excavated three pencils from the binder. "Where do pencils live?"

**********

By that evening, Marius new bedroom was, to quote Combeferre, 'habitable'; Bahorel had discovered a whole new closet in his apartment where cleaning implements were kept; Gavroche had succeeded in returning to his previous state of dirtiness; Grantaire and Enjolras had eventually managed, under Joly's increasingly pained - if fond - direction, to cover the mattress with a sheet; Courfeyrac had mainly focused on refraining from looking at Combeferre, a deeply bewildered expression on his face; and Jehan had eventually reappeared with an enigmatic quote from an obscure poet as a greeting. All in all, as Musichetta finally conceded, 'pretty good, really'.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I mean, I don't quite know where we're going, but - ready for anything!"

Just when Marius had finally succeeded in unearthing the cereal, the front door of the apartment swung open and everyone burst in. Bahorel swung around a chair and dropped down onto it, straddling its back, to an eye-roll from Feuilly.

He grinned. "Shush, let me be stereotypically bro-y. Dude."

Feuilly knocked his shoulder with a grin and turned to Marius. "Aight, mate, they wanna introduce you to 'the neighbourhood', which I'm pretty sure will only cover places that serve alcohol, but I don't think you've got a choice about it." He glanced down at the bowl in Marius' hands. "We can stop off at the Musain first, they do breakfast. You ready?"

Marius shrugged in resignation. "Yeah, sure. Uh - is everyone coming?"

A smirk spread across Courfeyrac's face, who dropped into the chair next to Marius. "Ooh, Pontmercy!"

From the door, Combeferre shook his head at him with a grin. "Courf, stop interfering in people's love lives."

Courfeyrac shot him an innocent smile. "I don't know what you're talking about? And Marius, to answer your question, yes, Cosette is coming."

Marius flushed. "I, uh, I didn't mean-"

Courfeyrac patted him on the head and bounced back up to the rest of the group. More slowly, Marius did the same.

Cosette weaved her way through the group to take Marius' hand. "Hey, Marius! Ready to go?"

"Yeah!" A flush rose in Marius' cheeks as he glanced down at Cosette's hand. "I mean, I don't quite know where we're going, but - ready for anything!"

Cosette laughed. "C'mon then! I think we're going to the Musain first, and I know we're gonna see Papa at some point. This way."

She linked her fingers with his, both of their faces now painted pink.

Courfeyrac grinned, shaking his head fondly. "Oh, the heterosexuals."

"I'll never understand them," Éponine agreed. "C'mon, weirdos."

 

* * * * *

 

They poured noisily into the Musain, where Musichetta was at the bar, cleaning a glass. Feuilly vaulted onto the counter and dropped off the other side, excavating a plate from a pile of dirty dishes. "Marius. Fried egg?"

Marius looked up. "Ooh, yes please. If that's okay."

"You're paying, babes, by the way," Musichetta called.

Marius nodded vigorously. "Oh, of course. That's fine. So, is this your café?"

"Ooh, this is a great story!" Joly informed him, appearing out of the mass of people.

Bossuet scrambled over a table to get to them. "Okay, so there's this jerk…"

Feuilly and Musichetta exchanged a fond eye-roll as Musichetta joined him at the sink, both washing dishes while listening to Bossuet and Joly interchangeably regaling Marius with the saga of Musichetta's 'rise to power' within the Musain. The autumn sunlight pouring through the window painted swirling specks of dust orange.

"Yo, Baz," Feuilly called across the group. "Come help me with the washing up?"

Musichetta smiled at him gratefully as Bahorel swung behind the bar, pulling on a pair of washing gloves.

 

At a table next to the bar, Jehan and Cosette were engaged in an animated discussion on the pros and cons of colouring hair, complete with the number of dramatic gestures clearly appropriate for such a topic.

Courfeyrac tipped himself backwards between them. "Sure, but I think you're both ignoring the obvious disadvantage of hair chalk, which is that it gets /everywhere/."

Cosette and Jehan considered.

"No, I disagree," Jehan said finally. "I think that's an advantage."

Cosette giggled. "It certainly serves to pull an outfit together, if there's /one/ recurring theme."

Jehan gave her a mock-offended look. "Excuse me, are you saying my outfits aren't recurring?"

Cosette just grinned innocently.

 

Leaning against the bar with an amused smirk, Éponine was watching Enjolras and Grantaire arguing. Gavroche clambered agilely on top of the bar. "What they arguing about now?"

Éponine tapped Enjolras on the shoulder with an answering smirk. "Whatcha arguing about?"

"He's wrong," Enjolras and Grantaire answered in unison.

Grantaire raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? Fight me."

"I'd win," Enjolras answered automatically.

Gavroche stared at Éponine. "Are they serious?" 

She shrugged, grinning.

Grantaire threw a mock-punch at Enjolras. "Ya think?"

Enjolras tilted his head back and gave him a cocky grin. "Mmhm."

"Oh, it is _on_ ," Grantaire bounced back. "Yo, Ferre, I'd totally beat Enj in a fight, back me up here?"

Combeferre shrugged diplomatically from the table. "Oh, I'm not getting involved here."

"Courf?" Enjolras asked, puppy-dog eyes out in full force.

Courfeyrac smirked. "Y'know, I'm not sure. Why don't you _actually_ -"

Combeferre kicked his chair. "Courf, don't you dare."

"Jehan, Cosette?" Grantaire asked. "Wouldn't I ab-sol-utely kick Apollo's ass?" He paused. "Hypothetically?"

Jehan smirked slightly. "Of all the things hypothetically related to Enjolras' ass, I'm not sure-"

Cosette clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle, elbowing Jehan, who smiled innocently.

Grantaire rolled his eyes. "Shup."

A faint blush was colouring Enjolras' cheeks as he turned back to the bar. "Hey, Ep-"

"Grantaire," she said, shrugging. "Love you, E, but I've seen him in a fight."

Joly leant on the bar, standing on tip-toes. "Really? I feel like Enj could have hidden talents."

"I hate to be the one to point this out," Feuilly said, without looking round, "but I feel like y'all are forgetting about Enjolras' biceps?"

"Um, excuse you?" interrupted Grantaire, looking scandalised. "I have biceps too?"

"Compare and contrast," Gavroche murmured innocently.

Grantaire instantly pulled up his t-shirt sleeve to flex, at which Enjolras, having considered Grantaire's arms for a few more seconds than were strictly necessary, shrugged off his jacket to demonstrate his own.

Feuilly groaned at them. "Y'all are ridiculous and I am _so gay_ , and trying to work, so if y'all could put your clothes back on, that would be greatly appreciated."

Cosette grinned. "I'm not objecting. In fact, go all the way. Compare pecs." She tipped her head towards Jehan, murmuring, "Because that's a totally normal, platonic thing to do."

Grantaire rolled his eyes at her, grinning. "Don't sexualise me, Fauchelevent."

She smiled innocently. "Wouldn't dream of it. And the two of you _had_ better get your clothes back on, we're all about to spontaneously combust."

Enjolras slung his jacket back on. "Cosette, don't reinforce a culture of-"

"Victim blaming, yes, I know, and if you want to own your sexuality then that is fine, but seeing as we're your friends, one would hope that you don't want us to spontaneously combust?"

Enjolras considered. "Fair enough."

Grantaire sighed dramatically. "This is such a double standard. Why does Cosette get to win arguments with you?"

Enjolras shrugged innocently. "Well, I don't know, maybe she's just better at arguing." Grantaire opened his mouth to object, and Enjolras clarified pointedly: "Maturely."

"Preach," Cosette called. Grantaire rolled his eyes fondly.

"Okay, y'all, if you've finished with all the sexual tension, then I think we were going to see Valjean?" Musichetta called, taking Marius' finished plate.

Cosette jumped up. "Oh, yeah, we need to introduce him to Marius!"

Bahorel frowned thoughtfully. "Has Marius actually been properly introduced to all of us?"

"Still no clue who he is," Éponine said dryly.

Bossuet laughed. "Right, okay. Marius, c'mon."

Marius trailed behind him, looking slightly like a lost puppy. Joly followed.

"Right," Bossuet declared again, and gestured to Enjolras and Grantaire. "This is Enjolras, the blond one. Um, how much of an intro do I need to give everyone?"

"Make it like a dating profile," Courfeyrac suggested. "Enjolras, twenty-four, he-slash-him, vers-"

"Courfeyrac!" Enjolras objected, scandalised.

Grantaire grinned. "Courf, you spend far too much time on Grindr, you know that?"

Courfeyrac smiled unrepentantly. "What, you're saying that's /not/ how people are supposed to introduce themselves in the real world?"

Marius looked deeply disconcerted.

"Alright," Combeferre interrupted, looking mildly troubled. "You're all terrifying Marius, stop it. I'm taking over. Marius, I'm Combeferre."

"Mom friend," Feuilly interjected.

Cosette made a face. "Hey, I thought I was the mom friend?"

"You are," Joly decided. "You, and Ferre, and Chetta, are all the mom friend."

Combeferre grimaced. "Can we please stop confusing Marius? Right. I'm Combeferre, this is Enjolras, this is Grantaire. You've met Bahorel, that's Feuilly, who you're staying with, and there's Courfeyrac. That's Musichetta. Éponine, here, and her brother, Gavroche. Then Bossuet, who you know, slightly, and Joly. And there's Jehan and Cosette."

"They/them pronouns," Jehan added. "It generally confuses people, just thought I should say."

Marius nodded. "Okay, I'll remember. Um, hi, everyone, I'm Marius, I'm staying with Feuilly and Courfeyrac, and I'm studying law with Bahorel and Bossuet."

Feuilly raised an eyebrow. Bahorel elbowed him. "Hey! I do study law!"

"Sure," Feuilly said dryly. "And what, exactly, do you know about law that you haven't learnt from Legally Blonde?"

"Fight me," Bahorel replied.

Feuilly grinned. "Not an answer."

"Let's get going, then," Musichetta said, ushering everyone out of the bar. "We're going to Valjean's, guys."

 

They trailed down the street, Bahorel with an arm slung over Feuilly's shoulder and Cosette and Marius talking quietly together, heads close and giggling.

Courfeyrac nudged Grantaire. "Place your bets now on how soon it'll be."

Grantaire grinned. "See, knowing Cosette, I'd say soon, but I'm getting a how-do-I-know-she's-into-me vibe from Marius."

Feuilly joined them, still linked with Bahorel. "Oh, totally. And he's definitely the maybe-she's-just-being-friendly-I-don't-want-to-presume type."

"How romantic d'you think he's gonna go?" Bahorel asked. "I'm getting a definite rom-com feeling. There'll definitely be heavy rain involved, maybe a thunderstorm."

Éponine appeared. "I agree with you on rom-com, but I'm not sure about the dramatic declaration. The two of them seem more like an accidental confession."

"Y'all watch too much bad television," Gavroche informed them dispassionately. "I mean really, if you're not all the match-making-best-friend trope then I'm a well-behaved student."

Éponine gave him a look. "Your parents evening is coming up, young man, you'd better be a well-behaved student."

Gavroche looked highly injured. "I'm just _spirited_."

Courfeyrac laughed. "Yeah, that's what my teachers told my parents. Ep, when is it?"

"Couple weeks," Gavroche answered. "You could come, if you wanna - my teachers couldn't tell the difference between races other than white if it bit 'em in the ass."

Courfeyrac laughed, dropping an arm around Gavroche's shoulders.

 

Joly joined Cosette and Marius. "Hey, Cosette, I thought your dad was off mayor-ing today?"

Cosette shook her head. "No, the meeting was pushed forward a couple days, so he's just been hanging around, scaring the neighbourhood children and arguing with Javert. Here we are." She pressed the doorbell, and the others gathered around her expectantly.

They heard a muffled crash, and then the door opened, a tall man framed in the porch. "Ah, Cosette, my darling, how are you?"

Cosette hugged him tightly and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm doing great, Papa, how have you been? Has Javert filed any more reports?"

Her father laughed. "I think once he discovered they went to me, he's been making his complaints direct. As in, over the fence."

Cosette giggled. "He does like you really, Papa. And you like him."

"Honestly, OTP," Courfeyrac agreed from the back of the group.

Valjean rolled his eyes. "Courfeyrac, don't be ridiculous. Now, get in, out the cold." He greeted everyone as they entered with a firm hand-clasp. "Éponine, good to see you. I've been working on that claim. Enjolras, do stop getting arrested, Javert's about to report my house as a hub of illegal activity. Jehan, I found a skull I thought you'd be interested in. No, Courfeyrac, I'm not telling you where the skull is from, don't ask. Ah, um..."

"Marius," Cosette supplied from the stairs. "Papa, Marius. He's Courf and Feuilly's new roommate. Marius; Valjean, our father."

Valjean narrowed his eyes at the young man before also shaking his hand. "Marius."

"Um, nice to meet you," Marius answered nervously. Once everyone was inside, he turned to Courfeyrac. "Uh, Courfeyrac, Cosette said 'our father'... whose father is he?"

Courfeyrac grinned. "Everyone's."

Joly nodded in agreement. "If Cosette, Ferre, and Chetta are the mom friends, Valjean is just... the dad. But legally? I'm... not actually sure."

"Legally, Cosette and I," Feuilly explained. "Cosette as a kid, since her mum died, and me since I was sixteen."

"Huh," said Marius thoughtfully. "Okay."

They scattered cheerily around Valjean's living room, taking turns carrying food through from the kitchen for him, with the television softened in the corner and Enjolras attempting to stop rolling his eyes at politicians and adverts long enough to hold polite conversation.

 

* * * * *

 

After being fed a constant stream of biscuits and supportive conversation, the friends were beginning to make a move as the dark curtain of night fell over the city.

Valjean stretched. "Javert'll be over soon to inform me of all the different curfews I'm breaking, so you'd all better go. Enjolras, are you wanted by the police at the moment?"

Enjolras thought for a second. "Uh, I don't think so."

Valjean rolled his eyes fondly. "Well, all of you, be careful getting home. Don't get hit by any cars. That Montparnasse kid's been hanging around here recently, too, although I think that's really just to piss off Javert."

Jehan had looked up, perhaps too quickly to be subtle, and now ran a hand through their hair. Feuilly glanced across at them with a smirk.

Valjean got up and began to shepherd the group out of the living room and towards their coats. He nudged Enjolras, who had entered into another debate with a tampon advert, Grantaire watching with a soft smirk. 

Enjolras looked up. "Oh, sorry. Thank you very much for having us, sir, it was a pleasure to see you." Valjean smiled fondly and handed him his jacket.

 

They wended their way down the street, soft conversation floating up to the stars. Joly gestured to the entrance to a park as they approached it. "Wanna go mess about in the playpark for a bit?"

With murmurs of agreement, they wandered down the grassy path to the playpark, now deserted. Courfeyrac made a bee-line for the larger climbing frame, all rope-ladders and crow's-nests, scrambling up into the highest nest. Combeferre followed, dropping into the next to lean against Courfeyrac's legs. "Hey, remember the first time we came here?"

Courfeyrac grinned agreement. "That was ridiculous. You were ridiculous."

Combeferre smiled, masked by the night, and shook the ropes holding Courfeyrac in retaliation. "Um, I think you'll find that I was being a perfectly reasonable human. You, on the other hand..." He trailed off pointedly.

Courfeyrac laughed. "I don't know what you're talking about. I was being very well-behaved that day."

" _That day_ ," Combeferre responded expressively. Courfeyrac grinned.

 

Gavroche was lounging on the top of the swings, Grantaire watching him while simultaneously discussing reverse sexism with Enjolras, who was sitting on a swing but apparently forgetting to swing it.

Feuilly and Cosette were attempting to use the children's round-a-bout to get Bahorel to throw up, without success.

Joly, Bossuet, Musichetta, Marius, Jehan, and Éponine were draped over the smaller children's climbing frame, making an occasional remark, and watching the stars.

 

Somehow, despite the activity and conversation, a tranquillity had settled gently over the park. With fluttering eyelids, soft smiles, and quiet yawns, they drifted home.

**Author's Note:**

> So the iDEA is (emphasis on idea) that there are about four chapters for each month, which should be out (surprise surprise) within each month. I dO have a vague plan of attack, aka I know when each couple gets together and I have the semblance of a plot in my head. Repeat, that is the IDEA and I will do my best to keep to it.  
> Hmu on my tumblr www.alexfightmehamilton.tumblr.com i will love u forever


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